


bad boy love

by darlingpunk



Series: boys don't cry verse; [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - FBI, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, Kingpins, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Undercover, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingpunk/pseuds/darlingpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trust and loyalty had to come first, the falling in love part would be easier later. Dean had it all mapped out, these two dangerous men would be at their knees for him, in love with him. He just hoped in return that he didn't have feelings of his own for both men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. jon moxley

**Author's Note:**

> I can't get enough of Roman being a mob boss, I can write stories of him being this big bad with a beautiful loving side for his lover.  
> But anyways, another mob story. Let's see how well I'll do writing two stories at a time.  
> This fic was inspired by another fic in another fandom, wanted to try out the boys in this one. I have a few songs that also inspired me to write this, so there's that.  
> I honestly have no experience about undercover operations, so bear with me here. And of course, I have no experience with the boys so. Winging it here.  
> So let's get started.

_song: Hard Row by The Black Keys_

Pretty brunette was laying beside Dean's sleeping form, curled up at the side with sheets strewn around and pillows thrown to the floor with a wet spot at the foot of the bed. Faintly awake, sunglasses on and the slow throb of a hangover starting to wake itself up.

Dean could hear his phone buzzing on the nightstand beside him, screen light blinking. A few empty Smirnoff bottles and half finished bud joints lay beside the flip phone, Dean reached out blindly till he grabbed it.

Flipping it open and answered with a croaky "yeah?"

"Vacation time is over, come to the office in thirty," the voice on the other end said; gruff and annoyed, deep.

Dean sighed loudly and sat up slowly, groaning at the throbbing in his head, the girl beside him barely stirring. He snapped his phone shut and tossed it aside, pulling the sunglasses off and rubbing his eyes.

Barely a month of vacation after the long operation, the big bust up in Ohio. Dean was tired, didn't sleep much after coming back home--found good lays, drank enough to forget. It was hard trying to go back to being yourself, pretending to be someone else for almost six years.

An hour later--walking with shades on, ripped jeans, a shirt that he hoped was in the clean pile of clothes back in the  shitty apartment and a snug leather jacket--Dean smacked his gum and made his way to Hunter's office.

The huge Hulk of a man was a little pissed, face red and giving a nasty look at the presence of Dean when he entered in the office.

"I said thirty minutes, Dean. Not goddamn-"

Dean waved his hand and sat in a chair. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyways, why am I here? Thought I had like, three more weeks of vacation after that big bust in Ohio."

Before Hunter could reply, the door opened again to reveal Natalya coming in with files in her arms and giving an apologetic smile. 

"Sorry I'm late! Starbucks was really crowded today."

Getting settled and smiling brightly like always, she laid out the files and folded her hands in front of her, looking at Dean after twenty minutes in this silly meeting.

"Between us, we're the only ones who know about this operation going down. We heard that some agents and cops have been on the payroll," Hunter explained as Dean looked through the files.

Black and white pictures of himself during the six years of undercover, time stamped and a bit blurry. It was the time of his heists, very active and being a ghost. Good times, met new people and dissappeared after the bust.

"What kind of operation is this? What do my old pictures have to do with it?" Dean asked, reading through his file that was made up of his character. 

Natalya let out a deep breath. "We think Jon Moxley has had enough vacation time out of the states."

* * *

  _song: The Man I Left Behind by KI: Theory_

"I don't have any connections; they're either dead, doing a dime, or just hiding," Dean said, using any excuse to get out this situation.  _Fall in love with a mob boss?_ No way!

"Don't worry, sweetheart! I actually slipped a tip in to the database, some of the big heists you did recently before the operation was busted showed up," Natalya said, looking mighty proud of herself. 

"You're now an official suspect in the database," Hunter added. "Your little buddies should get the hit that Jon Moxley is back in town, it'll help if some of your old connections are active."

Dean threw his head back on the chair, sighing loudly. It wouldn't be such a big problem bringing back an old face instead of throwing someone in new and fresh to this whole ordeal. The thing was, Jon Moxley was a different criminal compared to a mob family. 

"I guess I have no choice, then." Dean shrugged. "Give me some info on this guy." 

Natalya slid a file over to Dean, opening it quietly and being face to face with a beautiful man--long dark hair and hard looks, grey eyes. In bold, neatly written letters under the picture had  _Roman Reigns._ Dean whistled lowly. 

"He's a smart boy, went to college; played some sports, good grades and popular guy! After his father got real sick, Roman took over the family mob; turned a lot of things around, more dangerous than his old man," Hunter started explaining. "Now here we are."

Dean heard small talk about the new Kingpin in Florida; dangerous man with the help of the family he took in. Back then, Dean didn't know what this guy was capable of, or who he was really. Guys he worked with were a little on edge when they would find out a new body had washed up.

Natalya looked at Dean quietly. "We know this is going to be more difficult, but we really have no other option. And you're the only agent who doesn't have a record. So basically Special Agent Ambrose doesn't even exist!"

It was true, Dean was a ghost in both lives. Almost like a protection for his life and other involved with him. On the other hand, Jon Moxley had history--where he grew up, who his parents were, friends he hung out with, what his reputation was, everything. 

It was just basically Dean's information, twisted up to be more realistic. But no one in his time of undercover ever got suspicious with Jon Moxley, he was so blended and that's what got people to  _trust._

"You have two days to learn the information of Roman's men, then pack a small bag. You'll be heading down to Florida on the third night." Hunter sat back, looking at Dean. "Look kid, I wouldn't have agreed if I knew how damn good you are. I know you're the perfect guy."

"If things get messy...make sure to bring a body bag," Dean said with a smirk, collecting the two files and leaving the office. Jon Moxley was now out of hiding. 

* * *

  _song: Boys Don't Cry by Natalia Kills_

Before leaving the previous night, Dean got himself shit faced enough to have one adventurous night as Dean Ambrose. Now, setting up in his nicer apartment that Natalya had gotten him, he was officially Jon Moxley. Getting himself a new burner, where it couldn't be traceable. 

Dean was given an address on the strip club Roman owned, being there almost every night. It's bright, neon pink letters in cursive on the top header of the building read  _Saints & Sinners. _Neon and rhinestones, topless girls and young men barely clothed walked around. 

Slow, beautiful dancers around poles--purple lights following each body, sharp and perfectly in sync with deadmau5's Sofi Needs a Latter. 

Dean didn't make a show of looking around, making his way to the bar. Dressed in casual clothing, snug leather jacket and tight fit ten grey tank top with better looking jeans and his favorite pair of boots. Wanted to look like any other ordinary guy.

The bartender was friendly, heavy accent and dark clothing. She was very pretty, black hair with ombre grey at the tips, baseball cap fitted backwards.

"You're new," she said, in greeting for a conversation. 

Dean looked at her with a small smile, dimples exposed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Darling I know every customer here, come and go every night. I know a familiar face when I see one; yours is new."

"Fair enough," Dean replied. "Name's Jon Moxley, just got back into the states a month ago," he added in a smooth lie.

"Taking a little vacation, huh?" the bartender wondered, drying down a glass cup. Piercing glinting from the flashy lights.

"Seemed like it wouldn't end. Though I'm glad to be back, always liked decent milkshakes." Dean grinned.

Bartender gave a small laugh and stuck her hand out across the surface. 

"Nice to meet ya, Jon. I'm Paige."

Dean took the gesture and shook her hand, firm grip and all. When they pulled away, she excused herself to amend the rest of the customers. It gave a chance for Dean to look around the place, not try too hard. Wanted to see if Roman or his men were around.

Spotting one of them at the spiraled staircase leading to the office Dean assumed Roman was at, Dean recognized it was Randy--close buzzcut and arms inked to the wrists. Wild grey eyes, arms crossed but at the ready. He was a crazy son of a bitch, Dean had read.

"I'll tell you again, I'm not  _fucking interested_ in you! Go away and leave me alone." Annoyed, angry and a bit scared was the voice, Dean turned to see it was Seth.

Reading about this particular kid, Seth was Roman's lover--been together since college days, met in a single class they took. Fell in love, been at Roman's side through it all. The file never classified Seth dangerous, but Dean wasn't going to drop his guard that fast.

There was a guy crowding around Seth, groping and getting his hand smacked away each time he tried to touch Seth.  _Why was he even alone in the first place?_ thought Dean. Watched as the dude got shoved away, laughing at how Seth was acting. 

"I like that mouth on you, sweets. Don't be such a tease!"

Maybe luck was with Dean tonight. He made his way quietly over to the two, chewing on his gum and sized up the dude.

"Hey man, he said to leave him alone. Go find someone else to bother, yeah?" Dean said.

The dude turned away from Seth, frowning and getting up into Dean's face. Really hated when people got in his space, hated when people assumed Dean wasn't worth a fight. But really, he loved a good bloody brawl.

"Or maybe, you fuck off." The guy gave a hard shove to Dean's chest, having him back up a few paces. "I found him first."

Dean sighed. "Really tried being nice here," he muttered and then jumped on the dude, throwing fists around and stumbling to the floor, hitting and pulling hair. Smacking jaws and pinning.

Somewhere the guy got the upper hand and had Dean's mouth filled with blood. It dribbled down his chin, but he didn't care; he kept punching and growling, noticing the guy had stopped fighting back after a few seconds. 

Dean pulled away and sat on his haunches, wiping the blood and sniffing. He looked up to see Seth still standing against the wall, wide eyed. 

"Jesus Christ," Seth mumbled. 

* * *

_song: Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey_

"...and then he just fucking _beat_  the hell outta the guy!" Seth exclaimed, still buzzed with the adrenaline from the brawl he watched.

He undressed himself quietly, pulling his hair into a messy top knot, looking at his naked figure through the floor length mirror. Going in a rush to find Roman and tell him about what happened, he quickly thanked the dude for saving him.

Roman sat in the bed, back pressed to the headboard and silk sheets at his waist. He watched Seth, eyebrows raised. Roman had seen the whole thing up at the mirror reflected windows in his office, Kane and Cesaro there too. Impressed with the way the guy who saved Seth fought, beautiful and clean.

Seth crawled into the bed, going to Roman and quietly straddling the bigger man. "I think I fell in love again," he said.

"You don't even know his name, Seth." Roman's hands settled on Seth's hips--he wasn't as small anymore, Seth had started lifting again, gotten thicker. Roman loved it.

"Jon Moxley. I asked Paige, saw those two were chatting before the whole fight."

Roman hummed softly and then flipped the two, Seth belly down. Grabbing a fist full of dark hair, Roman hovered over Seth's body who kept pushing back; starting to act needy like every night and day.

"I want him, Roman."

Roman pulled at Seth's top knot, hearing a soft whine; knuckles white in the sheets, Seth just pushing more and more back. "Right now, I want  _you,_ " Roman whispered, kissing up and down Seth neck, biting and marking.

As Roman fucked into Seth, headboard smacking into the wall with breathy moans and high whines, Roman wondered if the blue eyes and dirty blond was just as noisy as Seth. 

 


	2. pretty handsome awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning for the first section, it's not so explicit--but still, just letting ya'll know!  
> Kinda not happy with this chapter, but eh. (After this chapter, I'll be posting on Fridays or Saturdays, so yeah.)
> 
> We'll slowly learn about these characters, little by little. Bear with me here, I'm trying my best.
> 
> (Btw my tumblr is: dancinglucifer)

_song: Immortals by Fall Out Boy_

"You must be pretty stupid to think I wouldn't find out," Roman said, swinging a bat lightly around in one hand, walking around the body hanging upside down.

Crisp white shirt, creamy slacks and shiny black shoes, hair tied neatly to the back. Roman placed the tip of the bat to the concrete floor, hands resting on the end. He grinned, enjoying the horror-stricken man dangle from the chains wrapped at his ankles, hook at the ceiling holding him firmly.

"I won't say  _anything,_ man!" Gallows yelled, breathing hard and face bright red with the blood rush to his head. "Please!"

Music from upstairs thumped loudly, for sure blocking out the screams of Gallows. The basement from Roman's strip club worked wonders here--especially taking out sketchy rats who always seemed to not understand what loyalty and trust meant to Roman.

"Of course you're not going to say anything, you'll be dead!" Roman laughed, twirling the bat then. He pulled it back and brought it with full force, swinging it at Gallows' mid-section. 

It was a wonderful sound, the sickening smack. Wooden bat came swinging again, Gallows screaming loudly and begging. His body swung from side to side, spinning with every hit Roman gave with the bat.

Blood sprayed on Roman's outfit, splattering his face in tiny dots. He kept swinging, hearing loud gurgle and blood pouring out of Gallows' mouth, dripping onto the floor and leaving zigzag drops with the small sways the body went.

The bat finally cracked, a few bits of hair coming undone from Roman's bun and mixing with the blood on his face from the force of swinging. Pushing back the strands of hair and smearing red on his face, Roman sighed.

"Well, that was fun." He turned around when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, seeing Randy and Cesaro appear. 

"You started without us?" Randy asked, walking over to the limp body hanging and barely turning, chains twisted tight.

"Got a little impatient," Roman said, shrugging. "Clean this up, make sure to wrap him up nicely. Then send him to AJ."

Roman tossed the broken bat aside and headed back upstairs. 

* * *

  _song: Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley_

"February 12th, 2010 three men walked into the E.G. Bürle Foundation museum in Switzerland, one kept the patrons and staffers at gun point while the other two grabbed at least four paintings--within minutes the three disappeared, the paintings were never found," Kane explained, reading from his iPad and scrolling through.

Seth was intrigued by this new information about Jon Moxley, sitting at Roman's desk quietly with his feet propped up on the thick wood of surface. 

Kane scrolled some more. "Jon Moxley was suspected being part of a little crew; high profile and dangerous heists. They ripped off a lot of museums and art galleries around the country and outside of the states. They came back to US soil a few months before that bust. Moxley escaped, along with the other; Phil Brooks.

"The one who was caught goes by Lesnar. He wasn't very happy about loosing his share of money, he's doing a dime. On the other hand, Brooks disappeared--hasn't been seen or heard from. Moxley came up into the Fed's radar about two weeks ago."

Kane looked up from his iPad, closing the flap over the screen and sighed. He was tired of Seth nagging himabout this Jon Moxley, and after hours and hours of searching through files and reports, Kane had finally found  _something_ of the thief.

The door opened to the office, revealing Roman with blood splatters on his face and outfit. Eyes dark and staring at Kane and then Seth. Some hair had fallen from Roman's neat bun.

"What did you--"

Kane was cut off by Roman with " _get out._ " He began unbuttoning his shirt, eyes just on Seth.

Kane made a face and quickly left the office. Seth bit his bottom lip, watching Roman strip slowly and quietly for him.

"Bend over," Roman growled. 

*

Randy and Cesaro gave a wack at the body, having a little fun themselves before cleaning everything up and wrapping Gallows' body. Ruby red smeared on faces, broken wooden bats, and a mangled body as the music kept going upstairs--everyone oblivious to what was happening in the basement. 

*

Heavy breathing and deep grunts, fingers tangled tight in thick hair, fucking the smaller into the huge desk. Roman growled and gave harder thrusts as Seth whined aloud, blunt nails clawing at the sides of the desk.

Beside Seth's head was printer paper decorated in jagged hearts that had  _S + R + J = ♡_ and other little writings. Roman rolled his eyes and gave a hard pull to Seth's hair, riding him out.

It was time to find Jon Moxley.

* * *

_song: Best of Me by A Day To Remember_

Word got out on the street pretty quick, Natalya had informed Dean the previous night. Said he was still working on how to get to Seth and Roman. Using burners was the best thing for Dean; no traces, no worries. SIMs card could be destroyed easily.

Walking back to the apartment with takeout, Dean noticed that his door was unlocked. He patted himself down and remembered he didn't have his gun on him. This was it, he was going to die during a robbery that wasn't even part of his operation. 

Opening the door slowly, Dean peeked in. Quiet, and dark. A silhouette sat on the sofa, wasn't illuminated by the light from outside at the front across Dean's door. He frowned, seeing that the figure wasn't moving at all.

Flipping the switch quickly, lights on. Sitting cross-legged and grinning wide, lip piercing glinting. 

Dean's eyes widen slightly, staring at the man he hadn't seen in goddamn  _years._ Disappeared together for a small time, a few hook ups here and there. They couldn't be in love, a criminal and an agent? Crazy. Considering the situation Dean was doing for this operation. 

When the bust went down, Dean didn't rat when  _he_ escaped. Just wasn't in Jon Moxley to expose a guy who was way too smart, way too experience in this shit. And now, Dean was sorta happy to see a familiar face. 

Dean stared at his ex-hook up, where public sex was just wonderful and extreme heists brought them a little closer than Dean wanted.

"You know how hard it was to find you, Jon?" Punk asked, winking and grinning wider. He gave a humorless laugh. "Or should I say,  _Special Agent Ambrose_?"

Deans entire body went cold, stomach dropping in a twist. His heart pounded quick, feeling a heat and cold sweat appearing. How the hell did Brooks know--Dean sure as hell didn't trust Punk enough to tell him.

"By the way," Punk added, "I also heard you were having a bit of trouble getting into Roman's bed."


	3. i think you're a saint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this one is longer, but eh.  
> Oh, oh! This isn't a proper thank you, but still--thank you guys so much for the positive feedback! All the positivity is what has me writing more, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this.
> 
> Slowly but surely, things will get heated in a good and bad way.

song: _My House by PVRIS_

"What the  _hell_ are you doing here?" Dean hissed, finally closing the door and frowning at Punk who was grinning wider. He stared at the man, more angry than shocked now.

"Is that a good way to talk to your best pal?"

"Answer me, goddammit. I'm not fucking playing, Punk."

Dean was fuming, coming back to his senses. The takeout box he had was shaking, whether it was from anger or the shock, Dean didn't know. He walked silently to the small kitchen, placing the foam box on the counter--hands resting on the surface, arms outstretched and leaning against the island.

Keeping his back to Punk who still hadn't moved from the sofa. Dean took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and then turned to stare at Punk.

"Why are you here, Phil?" Dean asked again, more calm now. He watched as the man with tattoos and slicked black hair that had gotten more packed in muscle get up and make his way to Dean.

"I could ask you the same thing, but...we already know why." Punk grabbed at the sides of Dean's shirt, looking at Dean; eyes narrowed and pulling himself closer to the blond and blue eyes. "You fucking betrayed me."

Dean pushed the older man away, frowning. He still wanted to know how Punk found out, how he knew who Dean really was. He swore he never told Punk, never occurred to him to tell--no matter how close these two got.

Punk walked around Dean, grabbing the takeout and opening with a hum. "The night before the bust, we rented out a room. Remember? Brock always got his own, hated that we'd have sex each time we pulled a clean heist."

Hopping on the counter and sitting with one leg tucked under the other, Punk began eating the warm noodles with the plastic fork. Kept eating as he told the story while Dean silently listened.

"The sex was better than anything that night, right? And then we fell asleep, had a big day tomorrow is what you told me and Brock. You awoke the next morning earlier than me."

Dean kept staring down at the floor, arms crossed tight. He knew, he knew now what the mistake he did. God he was so stupid. But Punk continued with the story.

"I wasn't fully asleep, asshole. I felt you moving around looking for your phone, calling someone and that's when I felt the twist of the knife in my back,  _Jon._  I heard you loud and clear, calling in with  _'this is Special Agent Ambrose for an update--everything is ready, going in as planned.'_ That was real rich," Punk seethed.

Dean sighed, nodding. Should have checked if Punk was sleeping like he had always did before calling for an update, he was just in a buzz that day--getting himself mentally ready for that bust to go down clean.

"But you escaped," Dean said, looking at Punk quietly. "You escaped with me, that wasn't even part of the plan."

"Oh, but Brock being the one caught was part of the plan? Is that it, Jon?" Punk set the foam box aside, wiping his mouth and looking angry as hell. "You picked a real good time to come back,  _Jon Moxley,_ because Brock will be hunting your ass in four weeks."

Another cold chill hit Dean, his stomach doing that slow flip and twist. His eyes widen slightly, and the satisfaction on Punk's face showed he was in deep shit now.

"Lesnar got a dime, he still has four years left," whispered Dean.

Punk shook his head.

"Nope. He's getting out for good behavior or some shit like that. But hey, good news is that you'll be in protection with the big bad of Florida!" Punk said, voice heavy with sarcasm and grinning. "Man it's good to be back, huh?"

* * *

_song: Angel Eyes by New Years Day ft. Chris Motionless_

Dean paced the living room, not sure what the hell he was going to do now that two goddamn partners of his were now coming back and was back. His heart was pounding, he felt tight in his clothing, hot and sweaty.

Punk was sprawled on the sofa, watching Dean. "I heard talk that you were back, and you know...I said why not? Decided to take a plane and come visit my best pal."

He smirked. Dean frowned and stopped pacing, staring at the tattooed man. Punk sighed and sat up. "You're a cop, I get that. But honestly, all I keep remembering is Jon Moxley--the fucking ghost, clean heists. Always quick. You're undercover, and I'm not going to blow it. You can trust me, man. I trust you."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling back blond hair from his eyes in a tight grip to the point where his scalp started throbbing. 

"I still haven't figured out how I'm going to get to Roman," was all Dean said, going and sitting on the sofa, giving him and Punk space.

If Punk was going to stay around no matter the backstabbing he got from Dean, he was for sure going to play more Jon Moxley than his agent self. Back to the old days, no matter how much the little voice in Dean's head kept reminding him of Lesnar getting out.

Dean for sure wasn't going to use Roman as a pawn for money, or protection. But if this guy was as dangerous as he heard on the streets, maybe Dean could stay around long enough to have Lesnar think Jon Moxley was  _still_ in hiding. Dean could handle himself, he hoped.

*

Punk suggested to take something from Roman, anything to get his attention. Dean just prayed that Roman didn't decide to kill him on the spot, that'd be the worst shit to get into. Dean planned out a scene with Punk--start a fight with Randy, the crazier the better. Get caught in the act.

It was insane.

Twenty minutes in the strip joint of Roman's, Dean and Punk sat around at the bar, waiting for the right time to go in. Tonight, Paige wasn't working. A very pretty girl with flaming hot pink hair and tan skin was tending.

"I'm Sasha," she said, smiling with perfect teeth.

Dean nodded, smiling somewhat. "Jon." He looked over at Punk, strobes flashing over his face; shadowed with pinks and purples, blues, and reds. "Phil."

" _Punk,_ " corrected Punk, giving a look at Dean and then smiled at Sasha. 

 Requesting their drinks, Sasha excused herself to tend to the rest of the patrons. Dean was starting to itch, feeling the familiar little buzz of being on edge for a good brawl and small theft.

"Hey," Punk said, tapping Dean's arm. Dean looked over, Punk nodding his head towards the direction of the spiraled staircase. "Viper eyes is there."

Dean could see Randy standing around, arms crossed and walking back and forth slowly. Coiled, ready to strike. Dean gave a nod to Punk and watched the older slid off the bar stool and make his way casually to Randy on the other side of the room.

The Weeknd's Life of The Party played, slow and sensual as the exotic dancers moved to the rythm, sliding down poles and moving beautifully. 

When Dean saw Punk a little closer to Randy, he quickly made his way around the room, pulling some time. He was too focused on what he was doing, moving through the small crowds at each stage with two dancers on each pole.

Dean slammed into a body, thick and firm. He frowned and looked up, seeing Seth. Eyes widen, Seth's mouth slightly agape.

"Whoa, hey," Seth said, blinking and staring at Dean. Realization hit Seth. "Whoa, it's  _you._ "

* * *

  _song: Better Hide, Better Run by The Glitch Mob_

Before Seth could say more, Dean had given a small nod and smile, slithering his way more carefully. He made sure Seth couldn't go after him. Dean found himself on the other side of the large room, seeing the spiraled staircase beside the private rooms of red.

Checking to see if he was in the clear, Dean made his way up the stairs. The door to the office was slightly open, cool air came out and the room wasn't so dark. Office windows were tinted, mirrored outside for the patrons; could see outside, just couldn't see in. 

Dean got in quickly, looking around. Two big desks on each side of the room, thick and dark wood. The walls were painted in a soft grey, lush black carpet and several paintings hung on the walls--another space was open to the right, sofas and a bear rug centered with a dark coffee table with a single plant.

It was all so neat, not a thing out in place.

 Dean tried finding something that was valuable enough to take. He searched around, grunting in response to really nothing that looked personal to get. Dean chewed on his lip, eyes landing on one painting.

She was beautiful, curled up and sleeping. Flower crown in her hair, more bigger, white flowers laid softly on her sleeping body. Naked, obviously. It was as if the sun cradled her, dark skin and long black hair.

Dean got closer to the painting, seeing at the bottom corner read  _Samoan Maiden._ It had to be something personal with Roman, right? The guy was Samoan, a bit Italian what Dean had read on the files, but more Samoan than anything. This painting would have to do.

Pulling out his Milwaukee pocket knife, flicking it open. He reached up to pull the frame off first, settling it gently down to the side and then started at the corner and slowly down in a perfect line.

There was a thump on the other side of the room, Dean standing frozen on the spot as he heard a door open. It was the bathroom.

Coming out, tall and broad--buzzed head and cheap suit and tie, stood a monster of a man. Dr. Frankenstein would be proud if he had created this creature. Dean forgot about Kane, files read that Kane was Roman's personal secretary and sometimes a great torturer when things needed to get dirty.

Kane's eyes got a little wide at the intruder in Roman's office, not giving Dean a single chance to think of a move before Kane went at the smaller man. One hand went around Dean's throat, tight cutting off air.

Dean clawed at Kane's arm, trying desperately to pull him away. Knife fallen on the carpet, Kane raised Dean a little higher off the ground, tip toes barely scraping. Dean kept struggling, Kane growling and squeezing harder.

"Who are you?! You think stealing from Mr. Reigns was such a good idea?!" 

Dean felt his face hot, gagging and needing air  _now._ His vision began spotting, head hurting. He clawed weakly, Kane's hand white around the throat of Dean's.

Before passing out, Dean could faintly hear a voice--loud and anxious. 

" _Kane,_ let him go! It's Jon Moxley!" Seth cried out.

* * *

  _song: Irresistible by Fall Out Boy_

Voices were heard, like a small conversation. Dean was just glad he wasn't being slapped harshly to wake up. He came to a few minutes in, cold concrete one the side of face. He was just a heap, laying on the floor curled up somewhat. Blinking awake and seeing blurs, Dean groaned softly.

The chattering stopped suddenly, neck was hurting really bad. It'd be pretty sore in the morning...well, that was if Dean wasn't going to be dead in a few minutes. 

Footsteps came closer to Dean, black shiny shoes got into his blurry vision. One end of the shoe gently nudged at Dean's stomach to turn him over on his back. Dean gave another groan as he was slowly pushed flat on his back, eyes squeezed tight.

"Don't  _hurt him,_ Roman," one voice said.

"Seth," the other voice warned, deep and calm; rich and smooth. "Cesaro, take Seth out of here, please."

"What? No, I'm not leaving! Do not fucking touch me, Cesaro. You better not hurt him!" There was a struggle, Dean could hear. 

"Ow! He bit me, sir!" another voice cried out, this one had a accent. 

" _Seth,_ that's enough. Behave yourself!"

Dean slowly blinked, voice becoming a little more clear. He stared up, fluorescent lights and chains hanging from a hook that was firmly held on the ceiling. He looked over at Roman nearest to him, at the stairs somewhat covered by a wall were Cesaro and a struggling Seth, gripped tight by both hands of Cesaro's. 

"If you're gonna kill me, now would be a great time," Dean chimed in, grey eyes flickering down to him, eyebrow raised.

Roman was just in the fines of riches, a better suit than Kane's. Speaking of Kane, Dean gently prodded at his neck; it was still hot. Throat sore and throbbing. Fuck it hurt so much. And where the hell was Punk?

"So you're the famous Jon Moxley. Your balls must be pretty big or you're just really stupid to try to steal from me," Roman started saying, squatting down to Dean's level. "Do you not know who I am, kid?"

Dean snorted. "I know who the fuck you are, man. I heard things, but that doesn't mean I'm scared of you or your goddamn creature you have up there." Dean pointed up.

Music thumped aloud from above, Dean assumed there was a basement under the strip joint. Maybe Roman did all his killings here when the people who worked for him turned face or just didn't show enough loyalty to Roman, Dean had wondered.

Roman gave a low chuckle, clearly amused by Dean's sharp attitude. 

"I like that, you're something else." Roman gave a grin. "I have a deal for you. Stay the whole night and the whole day tomorrow at my home, I wake up a happy man...you're free to go."

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking at Roman. "Seriously? I'm not a whore."

"You were the one who decided to try and steal from me," Roman said. "You can pay me back by just having a sweet night with me."

"My body is not for sale," Dean grunted, scowling at Roman. He sat up a little more, watching as grey eyes trailed down Dean's body. "I have a deal of my own: I'll offer my professional skills to you, not whorin' myself, obviously. I'm sure there's things you want that you just can't have, am I right?"

"Apparently there  _is,_ " Seth piped up, staring at Dean.

Dean ignored Seth and looked back at Roman, who was smirking and toying with his gun he had pulled out from his halter. This was it, if Dean didn't make a deal with Roman, he was done.

"I'm willing to be on your payroll, I'm good at what I do. Professional skills of mine all used for you, but my body is not for sale, man."

Roman sighed, putting the barrel of the gun up to Dean's forehead quietly. "You sure I can't change your mind, sweetheart?"


	4. animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I lied, I couldn't wait any longer on this chapter so here's an early one. Maybe another by Friday or Saturday, which those are the original dates to post but...eh.  
> So we're getting somewhere!  
> And a little warning on this chapter, not so explicit but ya know.   
> Enjoy~

_song: Radio by Lana Del Rey_

Dean would never get used to the itchy black bags over his head, stifling air and darkness. So many times, Dean could never count--sitting in the back of a private car with Lesnar and Punk, silent and breathing softly to not waste so much air depending how far the destination was.

Drumming his fingers on his jean clad thighs with two bodies sandwiched beside him, Dean made silent prayers on thanking whatever God was out there watching him. Almost five minutes ago he was about to be shot between the eyes by the big bad of Florida. 

Now, he was sitting here beside Cesaro and Seth, Roman had taken another personal vehicle. The driver was quiet, and these other two were just as silent with Dean.

It was Cesaro who spoke first. 

"I really hope you don't make Roman regret this, Mr. Rollins."

Seth didn't say anything on the rest of the ride, and Dean kept drumming his fingers. The whole ride was smooth, and a bit long; but after twenty minutes or so, the car came to a halt. The sound of a window being rolled down, a pause, and then the sound of gates slowly opening.

The car drove in a little ways, and then the final stop. This was it, make it or break it here. There was no more chips to bargain with, Dean either adapted with the family of Roman's or he'd perish.

Bag pulled off quietly, Dean blinked and was met face to face with Seth who was smiling a little.

Cesaro grabbed Dean's upper arm and ushered him out of the black suburban. Getting a real good look at this sharp cut man, somewhat bald headed and aviators on with a better looking suit than Kane had on.

Dean looked behind him to see the second black, dark tinted suburban park too and Roman slowly and gracefully appear from the back of the car, driver of his holding the door open for him.

Being led to the house, Dean was in awe. Perfectly cut grass, beautiful flowers laid about; Spanish white walls around the very large perimeter of the property. Lavish house, but Dean had never  _had a home._

At the fine age of ten, Dean was in and out of different homes through the system. Mother fell in love with his elementary school principal, father ran away with the preacher from a town over. Dean raised himself on harsh streets, handcuffed too many times, slammed against cop car hoods.

Sweet age of sixteen, Dean lost his innocence to his nineteen year old babysitter. Second foster home in, babysitter asked if Dean ever fucked an older woman. Too shy, but goddamn was she amazing on him.

Dean never knew what the wonderful smell of a home cooked meal was like, never got bedtime stories; never knew what an  _actual_ home was to him.

Just something about this home--high ceilings and dark walls, white carpet, dark furniture, open bay windows, large carpet at the center and two living rooms; wide kitchen with white tiles and black cabinets--had Dean feeling comfortable here.

In the first wide living room, two big and beautiful paintings hung on the charcoal walls; pop art of a half faced Roman, colored in deep reds, yellows, blues, and small tints of green. The painting of Roman had him looking fierce, eyes hard and angry, one eyebrow raised and hair loose--majestic and wild.

The other painting held a full face of Seth; same pop art colors. This one of Seth had him looking just as wild; angry almost, determined in something. Snarl in his lips, eyes shadowed and hair tamed.There was a darker patch on one side of Seth's head, a certain dye job of his hair perhaps.

Many other paintings hung around on the parts of the house Dean could only see. Marilyn Monroe smiling in black and white, a sharp cut of half a body--one arm detailed in ink of Samoan designs, tan. 

"Home sweet home," Seth said.

* * *

_song: My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark by Fall Out Boy_

"I don't  _trust him,_ sir!" Kane hissed, voice lower than ever no matter the door closed and only the two men in the room of Roman's office.

It had been three weeks since the arrival of Jonathan Moxley in Roman's home. Blond and blue eyes had been hanging around here, too laid back to care and slept in an empty guest room Seth had shown. Small jobs here and there, but always coming back like a puppy needing their owner's affection.

Dean hadn't seen or heard from Punk, which wasn't unusual; Dean was used to the small disappearances of Punk being away and coming back eventually. 

Roman sat at his desk, laid back on the thick leather chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.

It was a bit odd for this thief of general and art to just show up, had been out of the radar and decided to pop in almost a month in. Something about Jon Moxley got Roman's attention, and it surely had Seth's--all Seth wanted to now was spend his time with Jon whenever he wasn't out on heists.

"Look, we searched everything about him, Kane. He's clean. Well, to  _us..._ but other than that, he has no FBI background, he's not working for them," explained Roman, looking up at Kane who was pacing back and forth.

"He's odd," murmured Kane. "Just something about him doesn't feel right, sir."

"Then let's test him," Roman said. "Get him fully into the family, if he passes then he's alright with us. If he doesn't, we end him." Roman shrugged, twiddling with a pen now.

Kane stared at Roman for a moment and then nodded.

"Fine."

Dean frowned from behind the doors, listening to the whole little chat between Roman and Kane. He still wasn't trusted, but he didn't blame them really. Dean would have to prove his loyalty and get Roman's trust, whatever Roman had planned out for him on this  _test._

*

The strip joint wasn't as packed on a Wednesday night surprisingly, but there was enough for the beautiful exotic dancers to be enjoying the attention. My Darkest Days' Move Your Body played loudly in the background, lights flashing.

Paige was tending again, alongside with the flaming hot pink haired girl, Sasha, who had tended Dean and Punk those three weeks ago. Was it three weeks? Dean couldn't remember. 

Dean was still waiting when this test would happen, he had to be alert and careful on what he did or said. Jon Moxley on the other hand wasn't scared, he was always down for a good challenge. 

"Mox," a voice called out through the music, having Dean turn slowly from the bar and see Randy standing there.

He tilted his head to the back, turning and walking off. Dean followed silently, palms sweating now and realizing maybe this was the test. Dean was led to the basement, remembering being down there and having a gun pointed to his goddamn head the last time.

Down the stairs, hearing voices and quiet crying, Dean stepped aside from behind Randy to see a man hanging upside down by the hook attached to the ceiling. Circled around the guy hanging was Roman, Kane, Cesaro and Seth.

The man hanging from the ceiling had his arms loose, fingers barely brushing the concrete flooring from how high the ceiling was, steel bars keeping the chains firmly held. He was sobbing, begging and mumbling nonsense.

 Dean stared, Roman clearing his throat quietly.

"This is Bo, he has decided to turn face with the feds," Kane explained. "Bo is going to be punished and then buried somewhere he won't be found like the others."

 _Others._ Dean didn't want to know how many were dead, how many got punished like Bo was going to be right now.

"No, no, no! Please, I never said anything!" Bo cried, thrashing on the chains.

"We'll have you do the honors," Cesaro said to Dean, pulling out a bat from behind his back and smiling.

* * *

_song: Pretty Handsome Awkward by The Used_

Dean held the bat, swinging it around and testing it's weight. He never killed anyone, undercover or being an agent. But this was the test Kane and Roman had decided he bet, to end someone--get him fully into the family, to be trusted.

Bo was a sobbing mess, begging and almost praying on what Dean could faintly hear.

"Please," Bo cried.

Dean had all eyes on him, waiting. With a slow lick up to the bat's tip, Dean held the wooden bat firmly and swung.

The cry was loud, the music upstairs kept it silent. Dean watched as Bo's body swung lightly, hearing him breathe a little funny. Dean gave another swing, hearing a sickening crack. 

Randy was laughing in the background, seeming to enjoy the torture. Dean felt numb, letting whatever thing that possessed him to take control on this sick pleasure.

 Blood came oozing out of Bo's mouth, pooling here and there with the swings and twists Bo's body went on the chains, tightening around the body's ankles. Dean swung again, hearing a cough and blood spitting at Dean's jeans--dots staining faded blue.

There was a wet noise coming from Bo's breathing, struggling as more blood kept coming. Dean swore he cracked enough ribs; a bit of blood got in Dean's face.

When Bo no longer struggled or said anything else,

Dean stopped. He was breathing hard with every swing of the bat, staring at the limp, dangling body that swung lightly with blood dotting the concrete.

"That was beautiful," Randy finally said, clapping and grinning wild.

Dean tossed the bloody bat aside, it rolling to Roman's feet.

"Well done," Roman softly spoke, voice low.

*

After cleaning up and leaving Cesaro and Randy to clean in the basement and wrap the body up nicely, Dean stood in the men's bathroom for the employees only. It seemed the bartenders and dancers knew just what Roman was capable of but kept their mouths shut and turned the other way. Dean didn't understand, and he'd have to now that he was officially in.

Dean sighed and scrubbed his face with the soft grey towel he was handed by Seth. Shirtless with scars decorating his body than ink, not shaven and muscle packed, Dean stared at himself in the mirror.

Blue, tired eyes and messy blond hair, itchy stubble. Dean wasn't going to rest now; he had to be more alert than ever. And he still had to make a call in to Hunter or Natalya to give an update, and that'd be super hard.

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Seth peeked in and quietly slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him slowly. He had a hoodie in one hand, messy top knot in his hair and thick rimmed glasses--skinny jeans and a Pierce The Veil band tee.

"Should fit ya," Seth quietly said, handing Dean the hoodie.

Dean took it in thanks and slid it on quietly, not bothering to zip it.

"You didn't thank me either," added on Seth, watching Dean raise an eyebrow. "Your brains would have been all over the floor in the basement if it weren't for me convincing Roman to not kill you, you know."

"Yeah, about that." Dean shrugged. "What made me so special, huh?"

Seth didn't answer, instead he pulled Dean by the sides of the hoodie, their foreheads sorta knocked together. But it didn't stop Seth on pushing his mouth on Dean's, teeth clacking and tongues barely grazing.

It was such a bad kiss, Seth's fingers still twisted deep into the material; bodies firmly pressed together. Dean reached up and grabbed a handful of Seth's top knot, yanking him back a little.

"Thanks," Dean said, licking his lips and left the bathroom. 

* * *

_song: Starve The Ego, Feed The Soul by The Glitch Mob_

Not being able to relax and get a good hand around your dick was pretty much sexual tension. Before leaving on this operation Dean only got a lay, he didn't get to jerk off some, didn't get to have another good time; it was bad, the six years ago was so much better since Dean had Punk around.

Coming back from the strip joint, Dean went straight to his room and stripped. Got in the shower, hot enough for steam to erupt the whole bathroom that was all marble and glass, shower heads on either side, walk in shower with a wide space.

Getting all wet, Dean pressed his back against the marble wall and got a hand on himself. He took his time, hand at the base and then made it way slowly to the head--precome oozed a little from the slit of Dean's now hard dick. 

Back of his head resting on the wall, wet hair plastered against his face and neck--Dean gave a low groan, giving gentle strokes and light squeezing to his head, feeling the heat at the pit of his stomach grow; his free hand placed firmly on the wall.

It felt good, biting his lip and moving his hips forward a little. He wondered what Seth would look like on his knees, or how he'd sound fucking the younger man. Dean shivered when he thought of how Roman would fuck him--was he rough? Or gentle? Dean wanted to know, he just needed to play a little hard to get for these two men.

Dean hissed, stroking his dick a little faster now, more precome showing up. The heat grew, having Dean's breath hitch and give a low groan of satisfaction as he came, white thick ropes splattering the shower floor, hot water rising it down the drain.

Dean's legs shook, jelly now. He slowly slid down the wall, feeling himself shake--legs bent out and feeling himself spent but so relaxed now, a glow. Dean panted softly and let his head loll to the side, eyes closing for just a bit.

*

"I still don't trust him," Kane said, hauling the body over on his shoulder as Randy helped and Cesaro was still digging another ditch to place Bo's body in.

"He fucking batted Bo with no hesitation, Kane." Randy looked over at Kane. "I trust him, guy seems cool. A little odd, but he's good. Roman seems to take an interstate in Mox too."

Kane grunted in response and walked with Randy, body in tow till they go to the clearing with Cesaro, deep in the ditch.

"Running out of room here," Cesaro breathed, wiping sweat from his face with the crook of his arm as he kept digging.

They threw the body into the ditch, setting it on fire then. Other bodies were buried around, possibly too close or not, it was a place only these three knew--Roman didn't care to ask where the bodies were buried or cared, as long as they were to not be found.

*

Seth was passed out in the bed with Kevin, little mop of a dog with perked ears and dark beady eyes. He snore lightly, curled at his own side for once instead of Roman's. 

Roman watched Seth for a minute or so and then left the room, shutting it slowly and walked silently down the hall to Dean's room. It was going to take time to getting used to a new guest, but Roman was okay with it. The guy was pretty, all dirty blond and blue eyes with a sharp mouth.

Giving a light knock, Roman opened the door and walked in. Dean was in the middle of changing, hair still wet and dripping, pajama pants hung low on sharp cut hips. A dark happy trail, and scars.

"Jesus," Dean muttered. "Give a better warning to a guy, will ya?"

"I knocked," stated Roman. He pushed back his hair, thick and long--black and sometimes annoying. 

"Barely."

Roman raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing up and down Dean's frame. Not so lanky, but packed enough with muscle. 

Dean stared at the big frame of a man, dark skin and a detailed Samoan tattoo at the blade of his shoulder and down to Roman's wrist--it wove around and under the arm, a part covered by the tank top the mob boss wore; pec part a bit to the back of the blade.

"So, uh..." Dean clicked his tongue, looking at Roman again and then around the room. "Needed something?"

Roman covered the inches distancing the two, grabbing a fistful of Dean's blond hair and tipped his head back a little. Twice, twice two people have decided to kiss him. And twice, Dean has kissed back. Maybe it wouldn't be hard.

This kiss wasn't the fast one with Seth, instead this one was a slow make out session, Dean had fisted dark hair and pulled tightly. Earned a low growl from Roman. Dean could feel how well endowed Roman was, and it just got him to press his lower half closer to the Kingpin. 

Dean's breath hitched when Roman's lips went down to the column of his neck, kissing and keeping his fingers firmly knotted in Dean's hair. A jolt and more pressing up, Dean felt the hard bite on his neck. He was hard. Again.

Roman pulled away slowly, looking at Dean with dark eyes and somewhat heavy breathing. He gave a tug to Dean's hair.

"Betray me and this family, I  _will kill you._ Seth won't have a say in it next time."


	5. hysteria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so ready to post this chapter already, I was all "oh my god! I hope they enjoy this one, I want them to be just as excited as I am!"  
> So here we go--not so much of a warning but, ya know...warning for the end since like, sex.
> 
> I literally do not know how many chapters there will be, but I also want to make this story a series; been thinking a lot about it, chop this up and all.
> 
> But anyways, thanks again for the positivity. You guys are so wonderful.

_song: Lonely Boy by The Black Keys_

Breakfast time outside was always Roman's favorite thing, he had his little family with him and they would talk about anything--this was the time where unfaithful rats weren't on his mind, business meetings were forgotten about, drug cartels weren't the main topic and gun trafficking didn't need to be discussed during this time.

Instead they would talk about sports, a little bit in the college days or a new classic muscle car Randy found. It was so nice.

"I don't think dogs should be drinking coffee, Seth," Cesaro said, watching Seth tip his mug a bit so Kevin could drink the dark liquid. 

Roman shook his head. Felt nice to not be wearing a suit also during breakfast time; loose tank top, ponytail and just simple basketball shorts and barefoot.

" _Coffee,_ " a voice groaned, looking up to see Moxley standing there in the entry of the sliding door, shirtless with his pajama pants a little lower than last night Roman could remember. 

Scratching his bare stomach and quietly looking for an empty mug, Dean poured himself a generous amount of black coffee and stuck six sugar cubes. He plopped down beside Seth, muttering a "mornin'" to everyone around the rim of the mug.

Roman could see the faint mark he left on Dean's neck, unwashed hair keeping it almost covered. Threatening the idiot should have shooken up the blond, but instead he didn't seem fazed at all by Roman's dark eyes and low voice. 

"Hey man, there's a lot of food. Go ahead and eat," Randy said, looking at Dean. 

Nodding in thanks, Dean sipped on his coffee and burning his tongue. He sat slouched in the chair, enjoying the scenery outside--the Spanish white walls, the beautifully size pool surrounded by the same deck everyone was at eating, the very green of grass.

Kane cleared his throat and stepped through the open sliding door, getting Roman's attention.

"I found this one wandering the premises and said he was a best pal of Jon Moxley," Kane said, weird eyes flickering down to Dean with a dark look.

Dean looked up and behind Kane, groaning and throwing his head back against the headrest of the chair. 

"Phil Brooks?" Cesaro sounded surprised. 

"I prefer Punk, thanks." The tattooed man walked casually about with eyes on him, sitting down beside Randy and smiling brightly at Dean. "Hey, Moxy."

*

Dean sat silently as Punk comfortably ate breakfast and telling the story of their biggest heist they had pulled off outside of the US. He sipped his coffee, more slouched and now in a sour mood. The others seemed to find Punk like an old friend, which wasn't fair.

"...and Moxy has everyone at gun point, right? Brock and I are struggling with the last painting, the sirens are blaring outside the museum, and Moxy is still making sure no one pulls a superhero stunt, it's all getting crazy..."

Somewhere during the storytelling, Seth had scooted closer to Dean and slipped his leg over on Dean's thigh, quietly feeding Kevin small bits of egg and softly murmuring little coos.

 "How did you guys escape the bust?" was what Cesaro asked next, eating a bagel with strawberry cream cheese spreaded out. 

Dean had his arms loosely crossed as he watched Punk. The escape wasn't planned, Dean remembered, had grabbed Punk by the hand as they fled the scene while Brock was held down and struggling. Hunter later told Dean that they tazed Lesnar five times till he finally calmed.

"We were going to make an art trade with the Germans, in return they were to give us some guns to traffic through. Small job, big money y'know?" Dean began, all eyes on him. "Got the deal, then everything went to shit. Feds came outta nowhere, guns pointed; someone started shooting."

Punk stabbed his fork into his scrambled egg, always hating the part of the bust.

"Brock was laid out, fought off some Fed's. I took Punk by the hand," Dean continued, "we disappeared out of US soil and stayed ghost for some years. We decided to separate after two years, he went full ghost and I came back on the radar a month later."

*

When breakfast was over, Dean went up to his room and showered. He got ready for the day quietly, and packed his single bag he's had since leaving Las Vegas on the operation. Punk wasn't here for adventurous story telling, Dean knew a job had been offered.

A knock on the door brought Dean to the now, hearing it open. Roman stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him and stopped shortly to see Dean's bed made and bag packed.

"You're leaving?"

Dean shrugged. "Punk can't be doing all the jobs by himself."

"But you're coming back, right?" Roman asked, looking around the room and then back at Dean. 

Was this finally it, was this now the part where Dean was actually trusted and  _in_ the family? Roman really wanted Dean to come back.

"'M not sure," replied Dean, shrugging again. 

"Not sure? I would assume you'd know how long your jobs last, Jon."

Dean rolled his eyes with a sigh, getting an eyebrow raise from Roman. "I know how long my jobs are, man. I just don't know if I'll be coming around to Florida again. Ya know?"

Roman didn't say anything, he just stared at Dean like this was the first time looking at him. Seth was Roman's treasure since college days, had seen everything and been through Roman's side on the worst of days and on the best of nights.

But Seth and Moxley were two very different people to Roman. Just knowing the blond and blue eyes for a couple of weeks had him growing fond almost towards Moxley. And now, he was leaving--Jon could go back to being ghost for years, and Roman would never see him again.

"Look, if it's about last night on me threatening you, I-"

Dean shook his head, one corner of his mouth turning up in a half smile, one dimple showing.

"That doesn't have anything to do with me leaving for a job, Ro."  _Ro,_ so now Dean--or Moxley--had a nickname for the big bad of Florida. This was faster than he thought. 

Roman went to Dean, cupping the sides of his scruffy face and looking at him quietly, pressing their foreheads together slowly.

"You come back to me," Roman quietly said, "you come back to me and Seth, don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed. Understand?"

Dean smirked, nodding. "Big bad of Florida now concerned for his little thief?"

Roman rolled his eyes and gave a quick peck to Dean's lips, pulling away. "Just be careful, Jon."

* * *

_song: Suspicious Minds by Elvis Presley_

The feeling of being watched wasn't unusual, but ever since leaving Roman yesterday and heading to the airport with Punk, Dean felt like eyes were on him. Dean didn't see a familiar face, but then again, Roman had a lot of people working for him. Some of them had never even met or knew what Roman looked like.

"Our guy this time goes by Damien Sandow, he's been ripping off some vintage shit at the markets and selling them on higher prices," Punk explained, setting his bag down on the single bed they'd be sharing in the rented room they picked out.

Dean looked through the files Punk collected of Sandow, seeing this guy looked and sounded like an ass.

"Hey, I'm gonna go down to the service station across the street, you want anything?" Punk asked.

Dean looked up at the slick haired man. "Not picky on junk food, get me a slushie too."

Punk nodded and left the room. Dean quietly pulled out his burner, knowing for a fact he'd have to rid of this one after this call.

Letting it ring twice, the call finally picked up and Dean spoke first. 

"Special Agent Ambrose calling in for an update," sounding like a damn robot for how much he'd say that during his operations.

"Got anything?" Hunter wondered. 

"Nothin' really, finally trusted. I think. He and his secretary searched through the database on me, seeing if I was a mole," Dean explained.

There was a sigh and then, "there's nothing they'll find that will have you looking suspicious, kid. Hopefully they don't dig further in, but I doubt it. Seems like they got what they needed. We're still watching you just in case; but other than that, Dean, you're still on your own."

Dean nodded. "I also got choked out by the secretary. Wasn't pretty, almost got my brains blown out too. Luckily, Roman's treasure came through."

Hunter grunted, hearing shuffling in the background. 

"Well seems like your weekend was fantastic."

*

"Great doing business with ya, fella. See ya next time!" Sheamus said, giving a firm handshake to Roman and the other guys, smiling wide.

Roman nodded in a smile, shaking Sheamus' hand just as firm. "Thanks, man."

Cesaro and Randy packed up the cases of guns into the black suburban quietly, Roman watching Sheamus and his men leave until next time for another gun traffic. 

Seth never liked coming for a gun run, said it was boring and didn't like being in the middle of nowhere. So the younger stayed behind at home with Kevin.

Roman got in the backseat after the gun cases were packed up neatly and Randy got in the driver's side, Cesaro at the passenger side. Shades on, Roman checked his phone quietly for any calls or messages. Nothing.

Wondering how Jon was doing, where he was at, and if he wasn't doing something stupid; Roman didn't have Jon's number saved, he was always changing burners. He hoped the idiot wasn't doing suicide missions, he wanted the blond to come back in one piece.

"We good, boss?" Randy asked, looking at Roman through the mirror. 

Roman nodded. "Yeah." They'd be in San Antonio by morning to meet up with the biggest Kingpin from Mexico.

*

Punk laughed aloud, sliding down the railings with bag in tow. Dean frowned and watched the older jump the rest of the four feet from the rails of the large house. Making sure no traces of each other weren't left, Dean hoisted himself over the private wall and helped Punk.

"Oh man, that was good. You still got it, babe!"

Dean rolled his eyes and walked beside Punk, heading back to the motel. The job was easier than ever, which got them finished early. Damien Sandow was going to be a pissed off dude when he'd get back from that dinner, not seeing that precious vase to welcome him at the entrance of his home.

"Heard anything about Lesnar?" Dean questioned, looking at Punk quietly.

Punk stopped walking and looked at Dean.

"You don't gotta worry about that, Moxy. You're in the protection of the big bad...he won't come looking for you."

"I needa make my amends with him, man. I told you I'm not using Roman for that." It was a lie, Dean's intention for this undercover operation was to have Seth and Roman fall at their knees for him, get the trust.

Now, Dean wasn't even sure what to do. He felt safe with Roman and his family, but he didn't want to put more shit on Roman just to have someone else do his dirty work.

* * *

_song: Heartless by The Word Alive_

Alberto Del Rio had been living the life of riches, a royal bloodline just like Roman's. Alberto's father was a well known man, dangerous--one of his family members had even worked and helped out Pablo Escobar when shit was going down.

Moving his work to the US, Alberto's father had been such good alliances with Roman's father. They worked together, they traded out as well; now it was Roman and Alberto taking over and doing things their way.

They always agreed on something to make their trades work, and recommending others for each other. The more they had help, the more they expanded.

Roman wasn't expecting to go back to Florida till the next day, so a little drinking wouldn't hurt.

"We celebrate for anything, a reason to drink as much as we like, mano," Alberto had said, a bit of broken English.

*

Kane answered the door by the tenth knock, giving a dirty look to the one making the loud pounding on the door.

"Roman isn't here," he said in greeting.

"Yeah, well...surprise. I'm the welcome home present," Dean said, shrugging and worming his way into the house. Shades on and gum smacking, Dean grinned at Kane.

Seth was out at the gym, Kane had told Dean. The blond went for a swim in the pool, cold water and just amazing on his skin. He did some laps, his way of doing a bit of workout.

Punk was going to do some jobs out of the country, said he could handle them himself and told Dean to go back  _home._ It was still weird to Dean, this big house now being his own. He just wished he didn't have to do any more tests, all he wanted to do was finish up this operation and go take a long ass vacation with Sami.

God he missed Sami alot, hadn't seen that fucker in awhile. Dean didn't have to hide who he really was, and it sucked that Sami was his only true pal, it was hard to keep family and friends in this sort of life.

This operation wasn't getting to him yet, but eventually the itching and the anxiety would slowly come creeping. Dean hated that, it always kept him from focusing. It cold bring a lot of trouble, and Dean really didn't need that especially being with a mob boss. 

Sighing, Dean did one last lap. He dried off, and went inside to shower, head aching from thinking too much.

*

Dean took a shower and then decided to relax in the tub with a few bath bombs he found. The tub was separate from the shower, on the other side of the bathroom. 

Black and gold molding, gold legs holding the beautifully size tub and a gold head on the holder. There was a bowl on the sink counter filled with bath bombs, different colors and different smells.

Dean picked one up and sniffed it, then placed it back. He found one that got his eye, a pink sphere with tiny petals molded in the bomb. Clothes thrown on the tiles, walking naked with the ball in his hand, Dean let the warm water run.

Tossing the bath bomb in the tub and watching it sizzle and foam, small and large petals of different flowers floated through the pastel pink water. He smirked and slowly got into the tub, letting the water rise to his chest. Dean turned the knob off with his foot and relaxed into the water, head resting on the rim.

The water was warm, the bomb still sizzled and floated around Dean's body, eyes closed and arms resting on each side of the tub.

 Dean groaned when his body fully went mellow, sighing softly and enjoying this wonderful time alone after the goddamn heist of jumping around and climbing on dangerous balconies. 

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door and then it slowly opening, hearing quiet footsteps after shutting the door. Walking towards Dean, and then stopping.

Cracking an eye open, Dean looked up to see Seth standing there, naked as ever and hair damp.  _Oh._

* * *

_song: Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars_

Seth quietly slipped into the water with Dean, straddling him slowly with a small sigh. Dean didn't move, didn't move his hands from around the rim of the tub, watching Seth quietly. Close like this, Seth smelled like pomegranate and a small whiff of cinnamon. 

The younger man quietly leaned forward and slowly kissed Dean, this time it wasn't fast or sloppy, it was gentle. Soft tongue and hands in blond hair, wasn't harsh--Seth scooted himself closer on Dean, knees knocking on the hard surface of the tub where Dean's back rested.

Dean didn't want to touch Seth, he didn't want to taint his beautiful boy that was someone else's treasure. Seth kissed on Dean's neck, biting at his jawline and giving soft little sighs. Dean's eyes were half lidded, watching Seth as this not so innocent kid sinned on him.

Finally kissing Seth back, a little more wild, Dean bit the bottom of Seth's bottom lip. Their tongues sliding together, Dean biting hard on Seth's own jawline and sucking marks on Seth's neck, claiming the younger like as if he was Dean's. 

Seth pulled on Dean's hair from the back of his head, fingers tightly in. And oh Lord, what has he  _done._

_*_

"We've both been screwed over, man. I lost a good friend that was like a brother to me! And you, you were ditched, they never came back for you, did they? And now, one of them is enjoying the rich life with the big mob boss of Florida."

AJ paced around with Anderson standing there silently as the other two men listened quietly. Big guy with a few tattoos with a shorter, husky man with a ponytail and a cheap suit on. 

"What do you say, man? We team up, you take your fair share and we take our own," AJ suggested, standing in front of the big guy quietly.

Paul looked over at Brock quietly, smirking. Brock looked over at the shorter man, giving a small silent nod.

"My client accepts," Paul said, looking smug. 

AJ nodded, grinning and looking over at Anderson with a wink. This was so good, he couldn't believe this, Roman was going to pay and so was the little thieves who left Brock as if he didn't matter.

"Then let's get started as soon as possible," Anderson chimed in.

*

The moans were needy, small and breathless. Seth rode Dean in the tub, water splashing about over the rim and on the floor. The clothes that Dean left on the floor were now soaked, small petals stuck to their wet bodies. 

And Dean still didn't put his hands on Seth's bronze body. He watched how beautiful the younger looked, flushed and pushing his hair back, fucking himself on Dean's hard dick; thick and full inside Seth. 

Seth hugged himself around Dean's neck, hiding his face on the crown of Dean's head and whining softly. 

Dean gave a low groan, the heat in the pit of his stomach growing bigger, throbbing inside Seth and feeling him clench around Dean. The blond marked Seth again and again, making the marks darker and more red.

More water splashed out of the tub, listening to Seth moan and whine softly, little breaths of "fuck yes," and "oh god."

Dean gave a soft growl, claiming Seth's mouth again--fingers tight around the rim of the tub, knuckles white. He was so  _close._ Dean felt Seth's own beautiful dick slide  against his flat stomach, smearing come with each ride; up and down.

"I love  _you,_ " Seth breathed, Dean pretending to not hear.

The glow hummed, washed up and cleaned what they could of the water everywhere on the floor. Soaked clothes and jelly bodies, legs shaking like a new baby deer. The bed was softer than ever, and Dean had never been in Seth's and Roman's room before.

Big, just lavish. Felt weird, laying here while Seth slept like the goddamn dead at Dean's side, curled up and snoring softly, one arm draped loosely over Dean's stomach. One thing Dean and Jon Moxley agreed together was they didn't do  _love._

So many people get hurt by that word, and Dean didn't want to be the first for that to happen with him--especially being in a mob family now, what if it didn't last? What if Roman got tired of Dean?

Dean simply stared up at the ceiling, gently combing his fingers through Seth's thick hair, twirling a few strands in his index finger. He was so relaxed here, he could so get used to this; waking up beside both men. What a dream.

Eventually falling asleep with Seth, both naked as ever, Dean didn't hear the door open slowly or see the amused expression on Roman's face--who came home rather early from Texas--and quietly stripped himself just down to wearing his slacks, slipping into the bed.

Seth had some explaining to do, along with Jon.


	6. spanish lullabies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from the grave, and oh my god I had such trouble trying to write this. But I guess this is it ha, I had erased the original chapter because I hated it.
> 
> Trying to keep up with this one too. Thank you guys as well for enjoying this fic.

_song: How to Be A Heartbreaker by Marina and The Diamonds_

The soft giggling didn't stop after a few minutes, neither did the licking of a tiny tongue. A warm body was pressed to his back, fully naked they both were. Dean just wanted to sleep, didn't want to be bothered right now. He grunted softly, feeling a hand creep down to his dick--lazy hard.

Another giggle.

Kisses on his shoulder blade, soft nips to his neck and the light strokes; gentle. Dean gave a soft groan, pushing his hips forward a little as he desperately tried sleeping peacefully. What a dream. 

Press of hips to his ass, thick hardness curved on the soft skin of his ass. Rubbing slowly with small thrusts. Dean bit his lip.

Tiny licks didn't stop on his forehead, fluffy hair tickling his cheek. God this dream was so hot and weird, who the fuck licks people when they're getting it on? A finger to his lips, the pad running softly on the bow of Dean's lips and bottom one, gently prying.

Dean grunted softly, keeping his eyes shut as the thrusts from behind pressed oh so deliciously good  _there._ The strokes didn't stop, gave a small squeeze and tugs. Heat at the bottom of of his stomach, growing and growing.

And that stupid giggling kept on.

" _Seth,_ " came a voice, low thick. Rich. It was a warning, but playful. 

Eyes blinked open, wide blue eyes meeting grey. Dean's breath hitched at the jerking, feeling his dick ooze out precome. He huffed softly, staring at Roman as the hand down below stroked him in quick paces.

Roman watched, stoned faced and tip of his tongue between his lips. Lips traced the hard vein on the side of Dean's neck, breathy laughs and the soft bite to his neck.

"Morning," Seth breathed, firmly pressed to Dean's back.

Dean was a little freaked, seeing the big bad in bed as Seth jacked him off. Kind turned on, Roman was still somewhat dressed; but it showed he was just as interested in what Seth was doing to Dean. 

Looking up was a curled up little ball of fur. Kevin laid at the top of Dean's head, licking softly at his forehead and sniffing his hair. Dean groaned quietly, a hitch in his breath as he came in Seth's hand. Ghost of a smirk on Roman's lips.

Seth hummed and gave a long lick from Dean's shoulder blade and then up his neck. Gave a few more strokes to Dean with his come, jerking lightly and felt all jelly.

Roman leaned forward and lightly nipped at Dean's jawline, kissing the corner of Dean's mouth and growled softly. 

Never had this much attention in bed, and really...Dean could get used to this. Very much so. Waking up like this to these beautiful men? Oh hell yeah.

"See you two had fun without me," Roman said, gesturing to both Dean and Seth, fully naked. 

"Lots of fun," Seth replied. He had the side of his face pressed to Dean's own, rubbing gentle fingers on Dean's stomach. "Mox enjoyed it "

Roman looked at Dean, eyebrows raised.

*

"You belong to this family now, Jon. Do not betray us, that's the only thing I ask of you."

And the sirens blared loudly in Dean's head. This was what he needed to hear, to be  _in. Finally trusted._

Dean gave a nod, small smile appearing with dimples. "I'm down with that. The only thing I ask of you is no more tests, man."

"Deal."

Roman had to take care of some business down at the strip joint, leaving Dean and Seth alone. They stayed in bed, too lazy to even get out of bed and dress. Dean played with Seth's hair, head resting on his chest. Seth's hair was wild, curled and puffed.

"Roman takes me to his charity events when there's one, so that means you'll be coming too."

Dean grunted. "I don't do dress up, and besides...I don't have nice clothes."

"There's a thing called shopping, silly."

Dean shifted under Seth, petting his hair and gently rubbing his back. He looked at the canopy around the bed and all.

"How'd you two meet? Like how'd you get into this crazy life?" Dean wondered, combing fingers through Seth's hair.

Seth smiled against Dean's skin, wonderful memories coming to him. Some weren't so wonderful.

"Boyfriend breakup," Seth explained. "Then I met Roman, I entered in a life that I knew I couldn't get out of. It was sometimes scary, I sometimes wanted out. But he always knew how to make me feel okay, you know?"

Living this life was always scary, wanting to get out meant a bullet to the head or the life of cover. Never pretty. Knew what Roman was capable of; loyalty he had, killing someone didn't matter to him.

"Then the ex-boyfriend came back, things got messy. Threatening me; I didn't tell Roman, didn't want him to be involved. But he eventually did,  _he killed him..._ "

Seth looked up at Dean, wild hair. He sighed.

"I was there, and watched. And after that, I didn't want to leave; I knew what he capable of, I knew I couldn't be scared with him," Seth said, tip of his finger tracing Dean's lip, smiling slowly. "He's actually a sweetheart, Mox. He knows what he's doing, babe."

* * *

_song: The Birds Pt. 1 by The Weeknd_

A charity for the sick little ones, sharply dressed with a glass of champagne in hand. Woman at the arms of their men, pearl necklaces around slender throats. Laughter and chatting, easy going and awkward. Dean stood around, didn't make any conversation and lost Seth and Roman somewhere. 

Big money, big bads. Half of these people in here were criminals, looked it and flaunting it perfectly. 

Hair slicked back, clean shaven. Dean bit at his lip, flinched when he felt hands going around his waist and press close. A small hum, the kiss to the side of his neck. Dean turned his head a little to see Seth, smiling. 

"Was lookin' for you," Dean said.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm here now." Seth turned Dean in his arms, smiling slowly himself. Mischievous, grabbed at his hand and led him down a dark hallway and away from the event. 

Dean followed, being pulled away. Seth dressed just as sharp along withe Roman; had seen them looking real good before leaving the house. Hair neatly tied back, wearing his contacts this time. After being a few feet away enough to not be seen, Dean was slammed to a wall.

"Seth--Seth,  _no._ " Dean watched Seth fall to his knees, grinning darkly and began unbuttoning Dean's slacks, tugged at the zipper and leaned in, slacks open. 

They'd be caught, and then what? Licked the soft outline of his dick, soft sucking and the quiet hums. Started getting hard, and Seth's mouth wasn't helping. 

Yanked the briefs down, dick swinging out; half hard and ready to be awaken. Seth slowly stroked Dean off, licking the tip slowly. Head fell back against the wall, Dean giving a low groan and let his fingers ruin the neat bun of Seth's, pulled at hair.

Hard and harder, heat deep into the pit of his stomach. Stroked to the base, squeezed enough to get a gasp out. Took Dean in his mouth, sucked sloppy; and fuck it was amazing. Dean watched Seth bob his head, getting fully wet. Hissed at the feel.

 Dean groaned again, pulling harder on hair. Seth pulled away, licking his way up and down, flat of his tongue pressed to the underside of Dean's dick. Looked up to see wide, blown eyes staring down at him.

"You like that, Mox? I can do this all day, won't get tired. Can ask Roman, babe."

Bit his lip, nipped at heated skin. Seth's mouth was just sinful. Felt so good, the sucking and kissing; whines and loud groans. Knew he'd be heard.

A buzz on the side of thigh, frowned and reached in to grab his phone from the pocket of his slacks. Let Seth keep sucking, slurping noises and not bothering to look at what Dean was doing.

Saw the screen bright with a name, a call. Dean frowned and flipped his burner open, answering his call. Heard heavy breathing and the need to catch their breath.

"Moxy? Heh, ah--you uh, you think you can--ah,  _fuck,_ you think you can come and get me? Sorta bleedin' o--out here."

Dan groaned, looking down at Seth working hard in his dick; feeling the need to come already, but just so distracted with Punk's call.

"The hell are you talkin' about, man?" Dean asked.

"Lesnar ah, paid me a little visit."

*

Punk was sliced, wide cuts on his upper torso; blood dripping. It was pretty nasty, face swollen and bleeding too; so much  _blood._ Family friend of a doctor came by, thick accent and somewhat of an asshole. Dean watched him check on Punk, clean his wounds and flinch at the yells of pain; almost crying.

Now at home, Roman and Seth concerned as fuck while the others had gone and did some checks; trying to find anything weird on where Punk was beaten. 

Dean's fingers shook, buzzing with anger. Brock was close, too close to find Punk. And he was next, this wasn't good at all. Knew he'd also come after Roman if he wanted. Sighed loudly and left the living room to let the doctor tend to the cuts on Punk's mangled body.

Needed to make a call to Natalya, or Hunter. Had to get alone time, let them know what was going on and why the fuck he wasn't told Brock was out.

Dean wanted to hit something, smash shit. He gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. Seth didn't even finish his blowjob, got too worried and got in a hurry, too freaked to even let Seth know what was going on.

Had rushed around the crowd trying desperately to look for Roman. Seth was running around yelling after Dean, getting so much stares.

The doctor, Regal was his name, came from the large den. Punk was laid on the leather sofa, Cesaro and Randy having to carry him.

"He'll be fine, enough blood was lost. He's getting more as we speak, make sure to keep the drip in. Also, he's asking for you." A thin smile and left to speak with Roman.

Dean mumbled a thanks and walked back into the den, seeing a sleepy Punk. Still looked fucking terrible, but patched up. A sigh, and went to go kneel beside the tattooed man.

"Moxy," was a greet rasp, a tired smile.

"Still look beautiful," Dean replied, grinning. "Better now."

Laughs barely audible. Fingers laced together, Dean gave a squeeze to Punk's hand and frowned. 

"He's coming for you," Punk said, Dean making sure no one was around to hear. "You gotta leave, man. He'll come after Roman too. He wants the big bad too."

Shook his head, Dean answered, "tell me you love me, Punk." A sad smile, small kiss with bruised lips and dried blood.

"I love you, Moxy," Punk said.

* * *

_song: Knife's Edge by Tiger Army_

"There's really nothing we can do, man. Brooks is a criminal himself, so. Unless Brock gets back under our radar we'll try something."

A deep sigh, paced back and forth and tried keeping quiet, not be heard.

"He fucking slashed the guy, Hunter! What more do you want?!" Dean hissed.

"Cut it out, Ambrose. Or I'll pull the plug on this little operation and see how well your buddy lives without his criminal bestie," Hunter snapped, back to authority voice and stern.

A growl, the pull at his hair.

"We're still watching, you're fine if things get nasty."

_Things have gone nasty, you sonofabitch._

* * *

_song: Oh Darlin' What Have I Done by The White Buffalo_

"He was talking to  _someone,_ sir!"

Roman rubbed at his forehead, sighing. Randy stood around, Cesaro sat. Kane was again, angry. Felt betrayed now, felt like Jon lied to him. What else has the blond kept from him now? Something deep.

"What do we do then?" Cesaro wondered, looking around.

"Another test?" Roman suggested. Didn't want to though, promised Jon. He growled and slammed his fist on the desk. 

"What do you have in mind?" asked Kane, hands folded and a deep scowl on his face. Weird eyes watching Roman quietly.

"Get Ryback on the line, shoot up his payroll."

*

Dean waited around outside, strip joint closed for the day. Took a long drag of his cigarette as Roman had taken a rat to the basement with the others, had to deal with him in the only way possible. 

Punk was fine, still laid around and being watched by one of the house maids there.

It all happened quick, the squeal of tires; the back door of the S.W.A.T. car opening and the rush of thick muscle of a man and wild orange hair, guns in hands and shouting. Dean's eyes widen, couldn't blow the cover; he'd be shot twice. 

Grabbed harshly by the arms, dragged into the back, double doors shut and slammed to the floor, not knowing what the hell to do. What to say.

"Who do you work for?!" came the question. 

Dean stayed silent, a heavy boot on the side of his face, pressing down. Hard. Groaned and squirmed, kicked at the sides. A gun to his temple, the rush of heat; heart hammering away.

_Don't tell them shit!_

"Let me help you," the heavy voice yelled, boot pressing harder on his skull. "You're working for Roman Reigns!"

"Just tell us and you'll be fine," accented voice called out, sounding more calm. Feminine, deep.

"Tell us who you're working for!"

Dean didn't say a word, teeth clamped and struggling under the weight. He just couldn't say shit, couldn't let these ones know he was undercover. It'd be a big disaster. He'd rather be taken to prison, not let Roman be taken. 

He'd rather be stepped on and yelled at rather than see Seth in his position. Maybe he cared for those two a little too much.

The trust and loyalty had to come first, the falling in love part would be easier later. Dean had it all mapped out, these two dangerous men would be at their knees for him, in  _love with him._ He just hoped in return that he didn't have feelings of his own for both men.

Which was now too late. Because once a rat, always a rat. And maybe the falling in love part had already came. He couldn't rat on Roman.

"No one, I'm not working for no one!" Dean cried out, side of his face numbing, throbbing. Tried moving around again.

A phone rang, burner. An answered "yeah?" The weight of the boot left, and another reply. "Didn't rat, sir." Dean scrambled up, rubbing his cheek and glaring at the woman with flaming orange hair and the bald guy that looked like the Hulk.

The phone was pushed to Dean, staring with confusion. 

Put it to his ear and the weird flop of pain hit his stomach.  

"Come outside, Jon." Numb, standing slowly and was led out the cart, flanked by the two and stared wide eyed at the sight of Roman and the others standing there.

Roman had a hurt look on his face, and a smug grin on Kane's lips and arms crossed.

The anger rose, the hurt and the betrayal started. How could he? Why? Dean felt his eyes pick with tears, the heave and then the rush at Roman. The hard slap to the face and the growl of anger and pain.

"You son of a fucking bitch! You fucking  _promised!_ " Dean shouted, slapping at Roman. The look he gave didn't help, didn't fight back. "I thought you--I thought you--"

_I thought you loved me._


	7. under lonely stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the lack of updating on this one.  
> And so sorry for the lack of words. I just wanted to update and leave ya'll with something for the time being.  
> This will probably have one more chapter and then we'll be done. Well, it's going to be a series so it's not going to be fully done.  
> But ya know.  
> So so so sorry. Thank you guys for being so patient with me.

_song: Outlaw Heart by Tiger Army_

Slammed through wide doors, pushed and shoved. Anger,  hurt and betrayal. Something deep in his chest ached, face red and fists tight. How could he do this? Didn't Roman trust him? Went through everything to fucking keep this trust. Killed a man for fuck's sake! Forgot how he got here, didn't matter; he was packing up and leaving. He'd find Lesnar, prove that he didn't deserve the good behavior and end this cover.

Jon Moxley was going ghost again and never coming back.

Dean threw clothes here and there, ignoring the look from Seth when he barged into the house. Poor kid probably didn't even know what went down just thirty minutes ago. Dean's hands trembled with every personal item he grabbed, shoving and keeping tears in. Knew he'd be asked what was happening; and hated Kane, knew that fucker had something to do with this setup. Dean huffed and forced his things into the small bag and zipped up; was going to take Punk with him, get him into secret protection. 

The door opened, a soft sigh. Dean didn't bother to turn to look, too upset and mad to care; why? He was going to leave anyway. Wanted to sleep for days, get shit faced and get laid by someone with a dick or a nice pussy. 

"Jon, look...I'm sorry--"

Dean turned around so fast he swore his neck popped a little. He got in Roman's face, didn't care. Didn't want to care, because  _fuck him._

"You fucking  _lied,_ " Dean spat. "You fuckin' lied to me, I hate when people lie to me. So fuck you. Fuck you and your little family thing you have goin' on here. I'm done, I'm leaving."

_You're a liar yourself, asshole. You have been lying to them since the day you got their attention. Hypocrisy much?_

Dean shook the voice out of his head, turned away and grabbed his bag. A hand around his arm and shoved off, hearing a low growl from Roman. Wasn't scared, he'd hit back if he'd have to.

"And by the way, asshole." Dean looked at Roman again, icy blue with soft grey. "The guy I was talkin' to? Punk's brother. He's a dirty cop," he lied oh so smoothly. Again. "Was seein' if he had a way to find some info for me. Get Punk safe and hidden. But since your fucking nose had to be in my fuckin' business, guess I should look for another plan."

Left, didn't listen to the voice calling for him. Begging. Stomped down the stairs, wide brown eyes looking up at him. God he was going to miss Seth, cute little Seth who did no wrongs. But he had to go, apparently this job was a blow; he'd never be trusted. He'd never be apart of these dangerous family; because he was just as lethal.

"You're leaving?" 

Dean gave a light shrug. "Going ghost. Punk and I need some rest, your old man doesn't think I fit in here anyways." Another shrug, left. Gave a nice hit to Kane just because it was funny. And for setting him up like that.

Punk was just as confused. Dean would explain after putting him in protection. Promised. Didn't look back either at the voice, Seth's voice calling after him. 

* * *

  _song: You Are My Sunshine by The Civil Wars_

When Punk was taken by Natalya, Dean kept swearing he wasn't going to be taken away for good. Swore he'd talk to Punk later, all he needed was to stay low and not say a thing. Besides, they grew quite close to one another; Dean still saw the tattooed man as a best friend, close.

Seth was angry at Roman, threw shit around and caused a scene in the house. Screamed that he didn't care about anyone but just himself. Roman didn't say a word, didn't dare. Not even Randy, scary and viper eyed Randy didn't get involved. And Cesaro simply walked away, while Kane just pushed and maybe mocked Seth enough to get hit again.

"I trusted him! Why did you do that? He trusted you! You promised!"

Perhaps Seth should have just gone with Dean. Make things easier, Roman wouldn't care. Treasure or not.

* * *

_song: Stand By Me by KI: Theory_

He didn't expect this to happen so soon, but goddamn he was so focused on being angry at Roman, didn't see when they came and took him. Bag over his head, slumped in a dark room with dark chuckles and the hard slap to the face. Bag ripped off, blinked and saw unfamiliar faces; just two and fuck he was so fucking screwed now. 

"The famous Jon Moxley. Wasn't expecting a guy like you, but you know." A shrug, short hair and a somewhat southern accent. Small dude, stood by another small one with a bald looming head. Big eyes.

And then his ex partner stood dark, silent. Big arms crossed. Idiot of a umpa loompa stood beside him.

"Hey, man. Long time no see," Dean piped up, grinning. 

And well, Dean never knew to keep his mouth shut. A push,  the kick to ribs and beating started. Tried fighting back, busted up a face, cracked a rib. Bloody nose, teeth stained and grinning. The nasty beating was nothing, nothing compared to the hurt he still had with Roman.

So when he was kicked to the side a few more times by different shoes, he laughed. Spat blood out at whoever was closest, got smacked around and held with arms wide open and punched over and over again. So much blood, and Paul laughing with each cry of pain Dean gave.

Everything was hurting, and he hoped he was dead. Hoped he'd be put before the next rounds. A flash, the grin. 

"Sending your little hunk of a boyfriend a nice picture, ya know? I mean, I'm sure I wouldn't want to take something so disgusting back, you're pretty awful right now."

Dean's head swayed, his body hurt. He wheezed, hair matted with dirty and blood, skin torn; bones broken. And seeing the flash of a blade didn't bother him, because this was it. They'd slash him like Punk, but instead, he wouldn't call for help.

This is what he wanted, didn't need Roman. Didn't need Seth, didn't need anyone. So he waited, watched them take turns beating him some more; Brock being the most out of control and smashing his face into concrete. 

Shirt ripped open, held by the wrists again. Exposed, too weak to move. Swollen eyes and busted lips; everything was a blur. And the first swipe of the box cutter had him screaming; neck cords bulging and Dean thrashing wildly as the tip dug deep and laughs were heard.

 Again and again, the cries slowly cutting off.

*

He didn't get to hear the new arrivals, the threats through gritted teeth and guns pointed. The anger of grey eyes and the small sobs from thick hair and brown eyes, too scared to touch his mangled body of blood and broken bones and torn skin.

Dean didn't see the way Roman's face looked horror stricken by the sight, by the capability of what Brock was known to do; destroy a beautiful art piece that was already in bad of a shape. Curled up, blood dripping and could barely move; something sounded wet when he'd try breathing. 

And did he beg for death, because fucking hell everything hurt. He just wanted his body to already give up.


	8. tonight and always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic had stressed me out so much, but i'm so glad it's done.  
> Well, this first installment that is.  
> So, the next fic of this series will be strictly about Roman and Seth in college days; basically how this "empire" began and blah blah blah. Dean won't appear at all, so.  
> Anyways, thank you guys so much for keeping up with me; whew. Sorry for the last chapter to be short.  
> This whole series has been inspired by Natalia Kills' Daddy's Girl. Such a good song, well for me. Anyways....
> 
> Thank youuuu ♡

_song: The Birds Pt. 2 by The Weeknd_

He was a mess. Still beautiful in Seth's and Roman's eyes, just bloody and torn, a work of art really. Lost count on days, face so swelled; aching body and didn't want to move from the bed, wanted to be left alone. God everything fucking  _screamed at him._ Regal came in and out to check on him, Roman paced back and forth but never touched him. Seth tried numerous times to stay around Dean, anything to keep around him; all until Dean kicked him out with harsh words.

They ended AJ and his other little minion in the worst of ways; heads mailed to families in warning. Paul was destroyed, thrown somewhere for the buzzards. They kept Lesnar intact, kept him locked till Dean got well. Wanted to leave the best for last.

Beaten bloody like him, still wasn't enough. 

When Dean was recovered, hopping around with some scratches and bruises; patched up. Bits of his face swollen, Roman trying to at least help and getting his hand slapped away. They took him down to a werehouse Dean had never been to, open spaced and silent. 

There, inside, Randy stood at one side of a hanging Lesnar by the wrists on chains; pulled so tight, almost fully in bedded into the skin. Cesaro stood on the other side.

Grinning slowly, Dean got closer to the large man who literally destroyed him bloody and raw. 

"Your call," Roman quietly said, looking at Dean. 

Being around this man of destruction, a killer and huge heart to him and Seth, he wasn't scared. Not anymore. What hurt the most was not being trusted into the family like he wanted, and perhaps he'd never be part of it. Didn't matter, he'd be gone by morning.

"Burn him."

The way Lesnar struggled brought happiness to Dean; his own happiness meant grinning darkly with a swollen eye and bruised lips, watching how the chains cut into skin, the way Randy and Cesaro pulled harder.

Roman doused the bigger man in gasoline, wide blue eyes staring at Dean. 

"S'not very fun to be on the fun end, huh?" 

Dean watched, Roman pulled out a lighter and flicked it; little flame and held present. How many times has he seen Roman kill someone? So many files to add, more years for his sentence. That is, if Dean ever survived the cover, and if he ever gave more updates.

"Gimme that," Dean said, snatching the lighter and flicked it back on; stared Lesnar in the eyes and threw the small object at the big man.

Flames licked and started, erupting around as Brock struggled and screamed; a horrifying sound and the way the flesh began smelling. Dean watched, blue eyes lit in yellows and oranges. Roman watched too, how the boys held the chains tighter, body slowly destroying. 

It was beautiful, well to Dean anyways. It was over, and once again; he still didn't feel trusted.

* * *

_song: Daddy's Girl by Natalia Kills_

There's a mouth, and another somewhere else.

Kissing, sucking; light bites. He groans softly, hazy in sleep; dreaming. The other time wasn't a dream. Moves his hips up, gentle pressure; hears a soft chuckle.

A mouth, warm and oh so wet goes around his hardness; sucks softly and he's groaning some more. Blinks awake, sees a dark head down below, bobbing on him. Sucking so eagerly, thighs spread open.

Dean rubs his eyes, giving a little arch. The other mouth he feels is on his neck, large hand on his slim hip; squeezing firmly. They're all naked.

Fingers gently force his chin up, blue eyes meeting grey. They stare, lustful gazes, lips on lips. Filthy kisses and moans swallowed up, growling and claiming. Dean's fingers tangled themselves up in thick, black hair; pulls a little harder.

His thighs quake, feels the heat of pressure. The ugly need to come. Seth quickens the pace, strokes and whines softly. Wet noises.

"Happy eighteen months," Roman whispers, biting Dean's neck.

Eighteen months. That long? Dean wants to laugh, wants to scream and just think of the shit he's been through. The things he's done,  _so many things_ for Roman, for this family in those months.

Punk was safe and sound, went ghost. Hadn't heard from him since the day Dean burned Brock. Roman practically got on his knees for Dean, begged him to stay. Dean still did check-ups with Hunter or Nattie, gave them details here and there.

Dean seemed to be more trusted than ever; brought along on runs, volunteered kills. Roman gotten more dangerous over the months, Seth getting just as nasty; and it seemed like a proud moment for Roman.

Everything has been told, no secrets held--except his real identity--and Roman seemed at ease, happier. A few words had been exchanged that day, Dean threatening to leave again if this shit ever happened to him. Promises still had been held, it was nice to keep the words.

Dean moans aloud, arching tight; comes oh so hot into Seth's greedy mouth, pulling at thick hair. Still hazy in sleep, warm and gooey. Lazy kisses are exchanged, Roman is gentle for once; Seth is needy.

Every once and awhile, Dean takes jobs. Out of the country, anywhere; gives quick updates to Hunter, comes home without a scratch.  _Home._ It's been awhile since Dean thought of that word, felt so welcomed now here. Family.

He's heard rumors; covers took years, depending just how good it gets. Eighteen months didn't seem much, six years of being Jon Moxley felt long. Maybe Dean would be here longer, and no, it wasn't because he felt something for these two men. Love wasn't the answer. Eventually this is going to end, either ugly or in a body bag.

Dean smiles at the two, all sex lazy and dazed. For now, he doesn't want to think about when he'll have to sneak off, turn ghost forever and never look back; he doesn't want to think of having to tell Roman or Seth, see the looks of betrayal on their pretty faces. He wants to soak up the rich life, wake up in bed like this. Everyday. 

He had the bad boy love, alright. 


End file.
